you can never make it.

where do they come from,

plucking shoots of hopes,

prying into the scales?

nobody knows.

they are the space-crawlers.

they are the attic-thumpers.

they live in furniture.

they eat dust and pain.

they resemble dead spiders.

they could be invulnerable.

contortionists changing

the shape of ours-to-come,

they note all that we do.

unlike gremlins,

they keep score.

telepathy is their modus operandi,

whispering sentences to each other

through walls and over continents.

they dole punishment out

and savor our suffering

collectively.

they will kill me for this.

they will kill all of us in the end.

we win if we know.

they hate that.

————

Jason Barber lives, works, and writes in Denver, Colorado.   He earned his undergraduate degree from Hampshire College and his graduate degree from Catholic University. Jason enjoys reading as much as writing and thinks a library would be a wonderful place to live.

traveling carnival on the school playground;

fireworks, cotton candy, staying up late.

Our ride spinning like a pinwheel,

more like a slingshot – cables snapped,

women screamed, bodies flew a mile a minute.

I came to in a circle of enquiring faces,

flashing red lights, next to a wall of hay bales.

“Is my dad okay?”   He was.

I wet my bed that night.

Before falling asleep, I remembered dad

had let those two girls ahead of us in line.

————

Harry’s short story, “Bobby Metz’s Headache,” was the lead piece in the 2008 edition of The Clackamas Literary Review, available at Amazon.com. His bizarre story, “Jungle Dream” is currently frightening readers of the online journal, Sliptongue. “Next Time, A Rabbit” appeared in the penultimate edition of the brilliant but now defunct 21 Stars Review.

His work has also appeared in Apt, Rain Farm Press’s Paradigm, The Aggregated Press, Flask and Pen, Ink Filled Page, The Verse Marauder, Above Ground Testing, and Locust Magazine. He has a poem upcoming in Hiram Poetry Review and a non-fiction piece, “To The Colors,” in the upcoming inaugural issue of The Evening Street Review.

I TOTALLY care about the earth. I have an eco-house okay? I keep out

the riff-raff with super tall hedges maintained by using sustainable

gardening with native plant species, of course. My gardener wanted to

invade with some fabulous plant from his native land but it wasn’t

native to here so I told him no gracias and not to plant it where he

lives, either. His wife brought me some of that greasy food they eat

but I won’t let anything into my kitchen or body other than grass fed

earth best free-range garden of good eatin’ wild caught earthbound

farmers cage free before the fall organic new horizon sustainable

health valley recycled back to nature all natural food. Poor people?

Right on. They can get on their bike or the bus and ride down to the

farmers market just like everyone else does. If only they would stop

eating so much fast food. I personally invited the guy who makes my

all organic vitamin boosted fruit smoothie each morning to come to our

farmers market but he didn’t show. They could go and make their own

little community garden. Those people just don’t want to be healthy.

Let’s have a proposition mandating that all people must shop at

farmers markets or no food stamps for them. My SUV totally blends

right into the earth. It enables me to be one with nature to drive

right up into and next to and even on top of nature. I wish my kids’

nanny would stop riding that emissions spewing bus. I keep telling

her to take green public transport only (and learning a little more

English wouldn’t hurt her either). It’s okay if she’s a few minutes

late every once in a while as long as she takes clean vehicles. Did I

tell you that my fleece matches the earth, too? Have you seen my cute

new shoes? They’re made with 100% recycled tires. Poor people? You

mean like Che? I’m totally down with Che. Haven’t you seen my 100%

organic cruel free cotton t-shirt. So cute. Check out my sweat shop

free jeans made with 100% organic cotton that’s been recycled from

garbage and they were only like $189. Do they make me look fat? Poor

who? I’m saving the earth here all right? I have important things to

do. I’m green okay? I don’t have time for you know. My pool at the

country club (it’s a green country club by the way) is all natural

100% natural chlorine. Fund public education? I can’t do that because

I am giving all of my education ducats to our local green

multicultural private school. It has solar panels you know and they

compost like everything. And I sure as hell am NOT going to pay

twice. Poor people? Well, are they multicultural? Do they recycle? My

new surf board is made from 100% organic plastic made in this

community factory in China. The sweet workers don’t even need health

care because those people there are so amazing that they have

multicultural healing powers like native healers. They’re totally

self-sufficient. I wish I could be like that. It’s so cool.

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————

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Rachel has taken a break from teaching to write and to attempt to rule her three unruly children. Born and raised in Washington, D.C., she currently lives in Oakland, California. She posts, mostly essays, to her blog http://rantsravesandrecollections.blogspot.com a few times a month. Rachel was very tempted, but not quite brave enough, to let Defenestration make up a bio for her.